


Torn(right off)

by godlymoss



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Blood, Brainwashing, Stan is satan, Wing Amputation, not as in he's bad he's literally lucifer here, semi-graphic violence(hence the warning)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:46:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26623867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godlymoss/pseuds/godlymoss
Summary: Stan gets a bit of a load taken off his back(if ya know what I mean)
Relationships: Ford Pines & Stan Pines
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	Torn(right off)

**Author's Note:**

> Psst. Hey. This fic has art now (by Me) https://the-gravity-is-falling.tumblr.com/post/630827602814402560/goretober-1-unholy

Stan collapses facedown on the hard, cold stone ground. He lost. He fell. He tries to push himself up, tattered, burned wings unfurling- and is crushed back down to the earth.

His brother- or, what was his brother, stands on his back, pinning him to the ground. The thing raises it's spear, white, empty eyes flashing in the fading light of an ending war. Stan braces for the inevitable.

It doesn't come down. The angel crushing him into the earth stands stock still, staring down at him blankly. Is he fighting it...?

No, he's receiving orders, Stan quickly realizes. Maybe Father wants to kill me himself. Stan thinks.

Maybe I'm at least worth that.

He almost laughs at the thought. No. He isn't worth that. So why is he still breathing?

He realizes when he feels his 'brother' take hold of his left wing. For the first time since he'd started this, he felt fear. Real fear.

"N-no- you can't-" He struggled fruitlessly, only making the angel press harder on Stan's neck with his boot. 

'Stanford' pulled harder on the delicate wing, twisting. Stan screamed. Bones snapped, burnt feathers fell in clumps to the ground as fragile skin and muscle tore.

"STOP- STOP STANFORD NO YOU CAN'T- PLEASE-"

A sickening crack. Stan would throw up if he had a stomach, instead letting out a guttural scream that shook the very ground. Hot tears ran down his face and hit the ground with a soft hiss. He isn't thinking anymore- just white-hot agony. 

He doesn't feel the angel grab the base of his other wing.

This time he doesn't pull first- he twists the limb hard, hearing that awful crack yet again. Then he yanks it, tearing it clean off- another scream, but this time it ends in a hoarse sob. 

A moment passes. There is only the crashing of distant thunder, the howling of wind, and a fallen angel's broken sobs.

The weight of the angel is gone from Stanley's back. He doesn't move.

The beating of wings fades into the distance. He is alone. His hot golden blood runs down his shoulders onto the ground, rapidly turning black. But he can't see it. 

He lies still, crying not for his brother, only for himself.

  
  


It's been so long since he'd cried for himself.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hahaha I'm a terrible person


End file.
